


Seldanna's Embers

by C0mpr3h3n51b13



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Canon Divergence, Fahrenheit 451 AU, Gen, Literally every trashy fire metaphor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-05 15:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14621835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C0mpr3h3n51b13/pseuds/C0mpr3h3n51b13
Summary: Caleb is seven years old when he sees books burned for the first time. He watches them burn, pages slowly curling inward, turning a sooty black.Caleb is seven years old when he takes a book from that fire, somehow untouched. Inside the pages, a wonderful new world, outside the pages, a government seeking to destroy the last of the remaining books.Luckily, he's not alone.





	1. Spark

Caleb is seven years old when he sees books burned for the first time.

 

It’s a whirling blaze of light and color, terrifying and strangely beautiful at the same time. People crowd around him, closer than he likes, but he’s petrified, unable to push them away. There’s a man screaming somewhere, but his mind hardly registers it, like he’s on the opposite side of a mirror. He watched as the pages slowly bend inwards, the hungry flames licking at the edges. Caleb watches as the books turn to ash, watches as the firemen drag the screaming man away, watches as the crowd drifts away from him. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours, but Caleb is alone.

 

Maybe it’s fate that brings the book to him.

 

A gentle breeze blows some of the ash off the charred pile, and Caleb sees it: a book, its edges singed, but the pages untouched. Glancing around, Caleb creeps towards the pile. Anxiety builds in his gut as he crouches down, reaching for the book. He could be fined for this, imprisoned, or worse. The firemen dragged away that man, why wouldn’t they drag him away? He picks up the book, quickly stuffing it in his now sooty overcoat. Caleb bolts away, fleeing until he’s home.

 

 

 

When Caleb enters the living room, his father is there, staring raptly at the screen stretching across their entire wall. The room is bare, devoid of everything except his father, the couch, and the softly glowing screen. His hands move in ghostly motions, signalling the screen. He doesn’t look up when Caleb walks in, doesn’t remark on how sooty he is, or how he leaves ashy footprints smeared across the floor. He just stares blankly at the screen, lost in some mental space Caleb can’t even begin to imagine.

 

The screen in Caleb’s room is on, as he left it. It’s set to the assigned program for seven year olds, colorful characters dancing and singing across the screen. Currently, a bright red bird speaks to a little kitten in a cheerful tone.

 

“Mr. Birdo, I caught my dad reading yesterday. What do I do?” The kitten asked, looking up at the bird.

“Good question, Kitty!” The bird says cheerfully. “You should report this to your friendly police officer. They’ll know what to do!” The cat looks hesitantly around.

“I don’t know, Mr. Birdo. Won’t my parents get in trouble?” The cat shuffles her feet nervously, his eyes wide and unsure.

“Reading causes bad things, Kitty, like the old wars. That’s why we must always report it to the friendly police officer when we catch people doing bad things!”

“Thanks, Mr. Birdo! I’ll go to my friendly police officer right now and report it!” Kitty breaks into a cheerful smile, skipping off the screen. Mr. Birdo breaks into song, light and innocent.

 

_ When you see something wrong _

_ You know what to do! _

_ Go to your friendly neighborhood officer _

_ Report them, and give the address too! _

 

_ Books are evil, and must be stopped _

_ Burned to keep us safe. _

_ People who read them are bad, _

_ and- _

 

Caleb leaps forward, shutting off the screen. He’s breathing hard, his nails digging into the palm of his hand. They leave little crescents behind, and Caleb stares, the slight pain registering dimly in the back of his mind.  _ Think. Breathe.  _ He reminds himself, settling into his soft bed. It’s hard, with a standard tan bedspread messily thrown across. The room is mostly bare, like the living room, but the walls are scrawled with writing and pictures in a messy hand.

 

 

 

For the next two hours, Caleb is completely lost in the book. At first, the words are awkward, hard to read in their compressed format, but they begin to cascade down faster and faster as he reads more. It’s full of things Caleb has never heard of, like big, scaly beasts larger than houses called dragons. He wonders if they’re bigger than the really tall buildings downtown, the ones that make him feel tiny in comparison. He draws back in fright as the dragon attacks the brave warrior princess Seldanna, cheers for her as she fights the dragon, gasps as she falls to the ground. He leans forward in anticipation as she pulls herself up with only sheer force of will, blood dripping from her wound as she roars, striking towards the dragon in one desperate, foolhardy blow-

And it ends.

The pages behind that are unreadable, singed by the flame. Caleb exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

 

The next few weeks, Caleb reads the book again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

 

It’s his secret, a little flame burning within him that’s his and only his. When he walks home alone, eyes downcast, the words dance in his mind, rivulets of lava dripping over his being. When Mr. Birdo comes on, Caleb learns to ignore him, letting his words wash over him in a river.

 

 

 

Caleb trips on the way home from school one day. The book flies out of his jacket, skidding a couple of feet before landing in front of him.

 

Looking back at the situation, he didn’t stand a chance. A police officer pins him down within seconds, and Caleb struggles to breathe under their weight. A blow slams down on his face, and his vision flashes with light, pain searing across his jaw. His back of his head slams into the pavement, sending yet another bolt of pain through his head, worse than the last. He gasps and coughs, only one word able to escape from him.

 

“Please.”


	2. Flicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New friends are found.

Caleb curls himself into a ball in the corner of the cell. It’s been 2 hours, 46 minutes, and 32 seconds since the officers dragged him in, limp and unmoving. The world shifts in and out of focus, but the seconds tick away in his head, pristine and untouched.

The cell smells of antiseptic, bare except for a smooth wooden bench against the wall. Three walls are concrete, one with a plain, sturdy door. A camara gazes down with its cold, fisheyed lens. A wave of nausea hits Caleb; he curls up further into himself. The lights are bright, glaring down.

Footsteps sound in the hallway, and Caleb winces as his headache grows worse. A steady stream of curses begins to drift in.

“Let go of me or I’ll!-” The voice shrieks. The door slams open, and Caleb sees a girl struggling against two guards. She bites and claws, pulling out every dirty move in the book. She gives a rather nasty kick to one of the guards, and he yelps in pain. They hurl her in, and she lands face first on the hard cement.

“And don’t come back!” She spits after them. The doors slams shut with a loud _thud_. Caleb feels completely, hopelessly trapped.

 

 

 

The girl pads over to him, and Caleb tries to squish himself further into his little corner of protection. Now that he has a better look at her, she’s skinny, all lanky elbows and hollowed cheeks. She wears grubby clothes and a long cloak that’s a little too long for her, enveloping her completely. He’s seen kids on street corners like her, colorless with downcast eyes. Instead, she radiates with an energy that he can’t quite place. A new wave of dizziness washes over him, cutting off his train of thought.

“Hello?” She asks, but the sound is warped, like she’s underwater. She holds up a hand, which quickly grows a double.

“Concussion,” She mutters under her breath. She crouches down next to him. 

“Can you tell me your name?” She asks in a soothing tone. Caleb pauses, his shattered mind taking far too long to form words. 

“Caleb,” He rasps, his voice cracking from disuse. When was the last time someone asked him his name? An ache grows in his chest.

“Caleb, I’m going to take a look at your head, okay?” He nods, relaxing a bit. She hasn’t hurt him, kicked him, or yelled at him yet. The girl guides him out of the corner and onto the bench with difficulty; he keeps stumbling. Caleb melts into her touch. She’s warm, warm in a way blankets never could be. She’s physical and there and _alive_. She climbs up on the bench next to him, but her feet don’t touch the ground. She touches the back of his head gently, and Caleb hisses at the sting. Her fingers come away coated in red. 

“Shit,” She mutters. The door flies open, a deep _thud_ resounding through the cell. The nice girl whirls around, eyes wide.

“Caleb Widogast?” An officer calls, looking up from his clipboard expectantly. Caleb nods, trying to pull himself up. Instead, he topples ungracefully off the bench, his vision blurring. Distantly, he can hear yelling. The girl is in front of him, screeching at the clipboard officer. _She’s protecting me_. He realizes dimly, and a wave of gratitude washes over him. He exhales, and the world slips into darkness.

 

 

 

Caleb groans. He cracks open his eyes, wincing at the bright light. His head still throbs, but there’s a clarity that he didn’t have before. He runs a systems check, sighing in relief as everything comes away green. There’s something wrapping his head that wasn’t there before, but he doesn’t see it as a threat.

“Oh! You’re finally awake, I see.” He hears the girl’s voice next to him, and he pulls himself into a sitting position. She’s sitting on the end of the bench, her legs swinging off the ground. She seems slightly nervous. 

“Not your best day, eh?” She asks, and Caleb laughs dryly. What an understatement. 

“Not my best day, no.” He responds. She inches closer.

“I’m going to check your bandages, okay?” She asks, and Caleb makes a noise of acknowledgement. Her hands move to the things wrapping his head, and Caleb realizes her cloak is just a little

bit shorter.

“Thank you,” He murmurs softly. 

“For what?” She cocks her head to the side, curious.

 

“I think you saved my life.”

 

 

 

The next few days pass in a half formed blur of misery. Time has no meaning in their cell; Caleb lost his count when he fell unconscious. They lean against each other, talking in low, hushed voices. Caleb learns about Nott, listens as she talks about the little baubles she collects, the nice old lady who gives her food, the kids who hurt her. Caleb has little to give in return, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

She doesn’t seem to mind.

Soon, they come for him. This time, when they call his name, he whispers a hushed goodbye to Nott, giving her hand a small squeeze. They slip a blindfold over his eyes, shackles over his hands, leading him to a place he doesn’t know.

For some reason, it’s the blindfold that scares him most. They could lock him up, make him never see the light again. They could kill him, broadcast his dying words over the screens as a grim warning. They could torture him, make him wish he was dead by their hand. But there’s a predictability in misery. With the blindfold, there’s only the unknown.

 

 

 

_“Dad, why is mom on the screen?” Caleb asked, wide eyed. Dad leaned forward, white knuckled. He didn’t seem to hear Caleb. Mom stood in the center of the screen, her hands bound behind her back. Even shackled, there was something defiant in her. She stood tall, fire burning in her eyes. An older man, probably in his seventies, stepped forward, blindfolding her._

 

_Trent._

 

_He stepped away, looking at the proceedings with an steely gaze._

_“Ready!” A line of guns pointed towards mom._

_“Fire!” There was a loud sound that hurt Caleb’s ears. Mom convulsed once, and then fell to her knees. She collapsed in the sand, a weird red liquid spreading over it. Did she drink too much cherry soda? Dad covered his mouth with his hand, letting out a choked sob. Caleb didn’t understand. Why didn’t she just stand up? Two people quickly rushed out, picking her up and and taking her off-screen. The cherry liquid remained, darkening the sand._

_“Are they taking her home?” Caleb asked dad. He looked toward Caleb with an emotion in his eyes that made Caleb flinch._

_“Yes. She’s going home now,” Dad choked, his eyes bloodshot, tears streaming down the sides of his face._

 

 

 

After what feels like an eternity, Caleb is shoved forcefully into a chair. Unseen hands yank his blindfold off, and for a second all he can see is white. The room is clinical, with a long mirror stretching across one side. There’s a man across from him with an air of stern authority, too engrossed in his papers to look up. A scar stretches across his face in a curved line; Caleb traces it over and over again with his eyes. The chair is too tall for Caleb; his feet swing off the ground as he mutely waits. 

Finally the man looks up. Shock flickers across his face, and his eyes soften.

“You’re a little young to be in here, kid,” He says. He has a soft drawl that is sort of comforting. Caleb doesn’t respond, mute with terror. The man sighs and leans back, reaching into a bag. He drops Caleb’s book on the table.

“You answer honestly, and you’ll be right on your way.” He says. Caleb nods, eyes flickering from the book to his face.

“What’s your name?” Caleb swallows. He tries to speak, but his mouth is dry, and it comes out more of a cough. The officer sighs and rummages through his bag again. He pulls out a bottle of water, handing it to Caleb. Caleb looks at it hesitantly, then looks at the officer.

“This was for later, but,” He pauses, “I think you need it more.” Caleb fumbles for the water. It’s hard with his hands bound, but he eventually manages to open it. It’s just like a puzzle, he likes puzzles. The water is warm and plasticy, but to Caleb it’s wonderful. The officer waits patiently while Caleb chugs it down.

“What’s your name?” The officer asks again. Caleb musters his voice.

“C-caleb. Caleb Wido-widogast,” Caleb stutters, his voice coming out as more of a squeak.

“Caleb, where’d you get this?” The officer gestures to the book. Caleb’s mind kicks into overdrive.

“I-I found it,” He finally manages to say. The officer nods, scribbling something down.

“Got it. Pardon me for askin’, but what were you doing with it?" 

“I wanted to turn it in, like Mr. Birdo said, but I tripped and it fell out and these people came and hurt me and dragged me away-” He’s actually sobbing at this point, his hurt and fear messily spilling out. The officer leans forward. 

“It’ll be alright. It sounds like this is just a big misunderstanding, am I right?” Caleb nods, and the officer leans back. He scribbles something down on a scrap of paper, his other hand roaming listlessly through his hair. He passes the scrap to Caleb. It’s a phone number, and Caleb looks up curiously.

“The name’s Fjord, Caleb. We did you a great disservice, and I’d, uh, like to personally apologize on behalf of the WPD. If you ever need anything, just call that number, and I’ll see if I can help out.” It actually worked.

 

It actually worked!

 

Caleb smiles shyly up at Fjord. Fjord grins back, and Caleb can’t help but notice Fjord’s lower teeth look rather… long. Fjord seems to follow Caleb’s eyes, and he quickly closes his mouth. He seems a little embarrassed, even.

“I’m going to put the blindfold on again, okay Caleb?” Fjord asks. Caleb shrinks back into his chair. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just protocol. Nothing’s going to happen to you, I promise,” Fjord assures. He walks over, tying the blindfold around Caleb’s eyes. Gently, he guides Caleb out of the room and back into the twisting maze of hallways, out into the darkness beyond.

 

 

 

This time, instead of being shoved into the cell, Fjord removes the blindfold and shackles with surprising gentleness, like he’s handling a butterfly. There’s someone new in the room. He sits on the bench, hunched over. Long, purple hair spills over his back like the ocean, and he’s wiry and thin. He’s about Caleb’s age: far too young to even be here. His eyes are rimmed in splotchy kohl, with crimson irises. Caleb stares, he’s never seen someone with eyes like him, nor even a man wearing makeup.

“Caleb, you’re back, you’re okay!” Nott scampers up, beaming.

“I’m fine. Who is this?” He asks, looking at the stranger.

“Lucian,” The stranger says. Nott whirls around.

“Lucian of the Amber Coalition. The pleasure is all mine.” Lucian jumps up, giving a sweeping bow to an invisible audience. Nott’s eyes widen. She puts herself in between Caleb and the stranger, pushing them up against the wall. He’d heard about the Amber Coalition, and no, he wanted no part of this. They were dangerous, responsible for almost half of the violent deaths in Wildemount. No doubt the reports were exaggerated, but the flaky blood staining Lucian’s hands wasn’t doing him any favors.

“Take one step closer, and I’ll kill you,” Nott hisses, glancing up cautiously at the camera.

“Why bother? I’m already a dead man. In fact, I think you’ll be the last people to see me alive. Except the guards. But they’re hardly people,” Lucian rambles. There was something feral in his eyes, something that makes the rabbit in Caleb want to run and burrow in a cave somewhere, it’s terrifying, he’s terrifying. Nott seems to feel it too; her hands flick to her belt for something that clearly isn’t there. Lucian is grinning now, his teeth sharpened to points. Gods, who would even do that to themselves? He’s laughing, no, howling at some joke that only he can understand. 

“Nott?” There’s an officer at the door now, familiar clipboard in hand. Oh gods why now, why did she have to leave him alone with this _murderer_ - 

Lucian must have noticed his panic, because he smiles, not ferally this time, but a kind of sickly sweet that makes Caleb’s blood boil.

“Don’t worry, Caleb. We’ll have the best time together, won’t we?”

 

 

 

This is definitely not the “best time together.”

It mostly constitutes of Lucian incoherently rambling - Caleb can only catch a few words. It seems to be about bizarre rituals and violence and - Nonagon? What does that even mean? It takes Caleb a few minutes to realize, but Lucian is _confessing_. It makes sense, really. He’s on death row, who else would he talk to? It’s still uncomfortable. Caleb doesn’t acknowledge Lucian, but he just rambles on. 

“Here,” Caleb realizes he wasn’t paying attention as a manicured finger taps his shoulder. He throws himself away, sliding across the floor. Lucian laughs and holds something towards him, gesturing for him to take it. There’s a golden necklace in his hands with small crescent moon pendant.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Caleb asks, a little unnerved.

“I want you to take it and give it back to me once you see me again.” Lucian says as casually as if he was ordering breakfast. Caleb blinks. 

“No one survives the firing squad,”

“I’ll be the first.” The slim fingers reach around Caleb’s neck, hanging the pendant there. It’s cold against Caleb’s neck, dropping under his shirt. Lucian retreats back onto his side of the bench. For the first time, he’s blessedly silent.

 

 

 

“Caleb! Caleb, I’m off the hook!” Nott scurries into the room, a smile growing from ear to ear. Caleb smiles softly as well, disproportionate happiness blooming in his chest. She runs up and tackle hugs him, and he hugs her back, not caring about anything else in the world. 

“C’mon you two,” Caleb looks up. Fjord stands in the doorway, a gentle smile on his face as well. He ushers them out of the cell, no blindfold this time, to the front of the station.

“Do you have any, uh, parents I could call?” Fjord asks, his hand already on a chunky landline. Caleb stares down at his feet.

“I think we’ll walk,” Nott offers, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. Fjord nods and glances out the window. Rain streams down it in waves, and Caleb can hear the loud patter on the roof.

“It’s pouring out there - wait here a sec.” He pops into the backroom and emerges with an umbrella. “Sorry I couldn’t get two. You guys will have to share.” Caleb nods.

“Thank you, Mr. Fjord!” Nott says, grabbing the umbrella with both hands.

“Just Fjord is fine, Nott,” Fjord says warmly, “Again, if you ever need anything…” Caleb nods. With a wave of goodbye, he and Nott step out into the pouring rain.

 

 

 

Within seconds, Caleb is soaked. Nott is a little too short to hold the umbrella over both of them, but not for lack of trying. She strains upwards as far as she can reach; Caleb has to stoop under the umbrella even then.

“Do you want me to hold that?” He suggests.

“I’m fine!” Nott snaps back. Caleb backs up. Soon he gives up trying to stay under the umbrella at all. They wander for quite some time. Caleb begins to notice recurring landmarks as they

tread the waterlogged streets. Nott leads him on a roundabout route going absolutely nowhere. After the fifth lap of the corner store, it dawns on Caleb. 

“Do you have anywhere to go?” He asks Nott. She freezes, her eyes wide. Her shoulders fall, and she shuffles her feet.

“Well… no,” Nott says quietly. Caleb nods. 

“Come on then,” Caleb starts to walk. Nott blinks, confused.

“Wait, what?”

“I can’t leave you in the cold. You saved my life.” Nott looks stunned, frozen on the sidewalk. “Come on.”

She hurries after him, and for the first time in a long while, Caleb doesn’t feel alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is actually the longest chapter I've ever written. 0_0 Makes me feel proud and sort of like crap at the same time! Anyways, have an awesome day!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Also, thanks to the wonderful Widomauk discord, but especially to Trans(muatation) Wizard Caleb for this wonderful idea! Have a great day!


End file.
